Milagro
by Medie
Summary: Late night thoughts about miracles. (Response to XF Ep Title Challenge) Future Fic. Clark/Chloe romance


"Milagro"  
Author: Medie  
E-mail: medison@thezone.net  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: Chloe/Clark romance, Chloe pov, futurefic  
Pairing: Clark/Chloe  
Series: None  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimers: None of them are mine.  
Summary: Late night thoughts about miracles.  
Note: Response to the X-Files Ep Title Challenge. Milagro (according to the  
site with the titles) means miracle hence this interpretation. Unbeta'd as well!  
  
  
"Milagro"  
by Medie  
----------  
  
When I heard people talk about two a.m. feedings, I thought they were  
something I would dread. The pleading cry in the night, fumbling about,  
trying to get everything ready while your child cries for food, I thought  
'what's not to dread?' I soon decided I dreaded the whole concept of Chloe  
Sullivan as mother *period* and that it would never happen so any thoughts I  
had about 2 a.m. feedings were forgotten. I'd never have to deal with a  
pregnancy so why bother?  
  
That changed when I fell in love with Clark Kent, and he with me...All of a  
sudden, the idea of me being a mother didn't seem so terrible after all. I  
actually caught myself wondering about it, imaging it, dreaming about it.  
  
Then I found out about Clark, about what he was, and where he was from. With  
this news, I thought my dream would remain exactly that, a dream. How could  
it become reality? How could a man and a woman of two completely different  
species possibly hope to conceive a child? Some human couples have to fight  
to become parents can you imagine how difficult it would be for *us*? I  
thought it was impossible, though I didn't dare tell Clark that. I knew how  
he would take it, blame himself. He knew I wanted a child, he wanted one  
too, and he blamed himself entirely. Telling him that I thought we would  
never conceive would have just made him feel worse.  
  
I couldn't do that to him, I just couldn't, so I kept my pains, fears, and  
even hopes to myself. I kept a lot of things to myself in those days  
including my fervent pleas to God for a child. Prayer was the only thing  
left to try. Clark and I couldn't go to a fertility clinic or doctor for  
help. There would be no way to protect his secret. It was because of that, I  
was convinced there was no way God would bring Clark and I together only to  
deny us our heart's desire. A child.  
  
Despite this conviction, the day I find out I was pregnant...I have never  
been so shocked or so happy in my entire life. I still don't know how I  
stayed conscious when my doctor told me. I couldn't believe what she was  
telling me. I almost fainted twice. It was pure shock but shock that quickly  
became sheer, unadulterated joy. Joy that Clark and I never really let go  
of. We were, and still are, so shamelessly and purely happy to be parents  
that I don't think anyone could ever comprehend the depth of it. Though,  
anyone who saw us the first time we held our son must have felt it. I swear  
it was a tangible force in the room. It's been that way ever since. The way  
we glory in the miracle of our little boy is one thing we are not ashamed  
of. We never thought we would have him and now that we do? We want everyone  
to know how blessed we are.  
  
When I look at him and realize how perfect his little body his, that angelic  
face, those tiny little fingers and toes...he's just the most miraculous  
thing I have ever seen. I've never been the type to revel in my sentimental  
side but since the birth of our son, I luxuriate in it like a cat basks in  
the sun.  
  
I bet, if anyone from the good old days in Smallville saw me now, sitting in  
an oak rocking chair, humming a lullaby, and holding my nursing son...they'd  
probably need to take a second, if not third and fourth, look to be sure it  
was me. To be sure it was Chloe. Back in the day, I was definitely not the  
maternal one in our little gang. Even I would have said that.  
  
Lana was supposed to be the one to get married, have a couple of kids, and  
do the whole family thing with the picket fence, the dog and the rose  
garden. I was supposed to be the one to travel the world, be the  
investigative journalist who has all the dirty politicians and businessmen  
shaking in their shoes. Well, the last I heard, Lana and Pete do have a  
couple kids and I am an investigative journalist - albeit freelance - but I  
gave up the assignments that would have had me traveling the world and  
stayed in Metropolis. With Clark. It was a decision I've never regretted,  
especially not after our son was born, our little miracle.  
  
That's the most surprising part about all this, I guess, is the fact that I  
love being a mother. I love getting up with him at night. I remember  
dreading the whole idea of motherhood but now, sitting here, looking into  
his perfect little face, I can't imagine my life without him.  
  
A movement in the doorway draws my attention and I find the other miracle in  
my life watching us. He must have heard my humming and woken up, his eyes  
are still sleepy and his dark hair's sleep-rumpled. He's wearing only his  
boxers and my breath instinctively catches in my throat. My husband is a  
beautiful man. It's not exactly a popular description of the male form in  
this day and age but it's true. Clark Kent is a beautiful man. I don't know  
if his physique is a product of his species's genetics, the natural result  
of growing up on a farm, or a little of both but whatever the cause, he is  
flawless.  
  
He runs a hand through his hair, reclining against the doorframe and folding  
his arms across his broad chest. His gaze settles on me and for an instant,  
in that confident pose, I can see my husband's alter-ego, the much-talked  
about, much-written about Superman.  
  
A thought occurs to me and an amused smile touches my lips and my eyes  
return to our son's face. He's fallen asleep, having eaten his fill. I start  
to stand and, almost immediately, Clark is by my side and helping me. When I  
'm on my feet, I carefully pass him the baby, the smile still on my face.  
  
"What's so funny?" He murmurs, looking down into our child's face, a look of  
wonder in his expressive eyes.  
  
"You." I reply, pulling up the straps of my nightgown.  
  
"What?" He doesn't look up and neither do I. I'm entranced by the picture  
before me. The strongest hands in the world, cradling my child's tiny form  
with such gentle care and cautious touch, that I find myself blinking back  
tears.  
  
"Just wondering." I explain with a wide smile. "What would people think if  
they saw Superman walking around in his underwear with a bed head and a baby  
at two in the morning?"  
  
That earns me a chastising look but I see the loving twinkle in his eyes.  
Clark may complain when I tease him about the Superman thing but he lets me  
indulge in it just the same.  
  
He drops his gaze again and cradles our son against his bare chest, brushing  
one fingertip along the back of one tiny hand. The baby reacts, grasping his  
father's finger and Clark smiles in reaction. "He's amazing."  
  
"He's a miracle." I say softly. "You both are. My miracles."  
  
He smiles at my confession and I move closer, resting my hand on his  
shoulder and my head on his arm. "No," he says suddenly. "You're both my  
miracle."  
  
I briefly consider arguing but I sneak a look at the awed expression on my  
husband's face and think better of it. He's as firmly convinced of his  
belief as I am of mine and, maybe, we're both right.  
  
Our life together with our son is nothing short of miraculous and why not?  
Over the years, as Superman, Clark has given so many others the miracles  
they've needed so desperately, prayed for so desperately, is it too much to  
ask that he get a few miracles in return?  
  
Looking into our son's face, I don't think so and apparently God agrees  
after all, we got our miracle and we're never letting him go.  
  
Finis 


End file.
